A/N: This chapter is also rated a strong T-M.
Chapter Five
After losing the girls' attention once again to fine weather and the prospect of fish at the creek, Caroline directed her frustration to the dirt floor of their cabin. She swept briskly, ignoring the red-brown dust that settled on her white apron and the hem of her skirt.
Charles ducked his head in. His brow was sweaty from working outside, building a small paddock for the ponies. "Seems kind of foolish, sweeping a dirt floor, doesn't it?"
She knew he didn't mean any harm, but the remark stung nonetheless. "It's the only floor we have."
He watched her as she continued needlessly sweeping. "I'll build you a hardwood floor when I get back from Independence."
"I'm not complaining," she protested, sweeping the dry dust outside. When she returned, Charles had his hands in his pockets, looking at her expectantly. She leaned the broom against the wall. "I'm worried about the girls' schooling." Their giggles carried over from the bank of the creek. "I can manage for now, but Mary has her heart set on being a schoolteacher. She'll need formal training, and-"
"We'll worry about that when the time comes," Charles said.
Caroline turned away from him. "They won't listen to me the way they would a proper teacher."
"You are a proper teacher!"
"I can manage, I said. I can't work miracles." She sighed, and turned back. "There's another thing."
"Hmm?"
"I don't see how the girls can grow up properly…without going to church." This worry had plagued her throughout their journey west. It was difficult to keep the days straight, no matter how hard she tried, and even more difficult to enforce a day of rest on Sundays when so much remained to be done. Not only did Caroline fiercely miss the structure and guidance church brought her, she missed the community of fellow Christians, and the lessons Mary and Laura spoke about after attending Sunday school.
Charles smiled sympathetically, came forward, and rested his hands on her shoulders, squeezing reassuringly. "I don't see how they can get any closer to God than they are right here." He brushed some stray hair into the kerchief she wore. "Now, stop worrying. Everything's going to be fine."
She nodded. He was right, as he so often was.
"Hey, you notice something?"
Caroline looked around. "Hmm?"
He glanced behind her. "We're alone."
A thrill licked up her spine. "Oh."
Cupping her face, Charles kissed her. It was cool in the cabin, but Caroline still flushed, kissing him back. She was vaguely aware of the girls' voices drifting to her ear over the babbling creek, and it comforted her to know they were safe as Charles' hand stroked along her neck, the dip of her waist. Chuckling against his lips, Caroline pulled back slightly.
"We can't," she whispered.
"Why not?" he countered, his eyes merry. "The girls won't come in, not with all the guppies down there."
"Charles! In broad daylight?"
He laughed. "I don't see any sun in here." Kissing her again, he squeezed her waist. "Come on. Let's try!"
Shedding the straps of his suspenders, he sat back on their bed, the straw mattress sliding. Caroline couldn't help averting her eyes while he loosened his trousers, and, with a covert glance at their makeshift quilt-door, gently rippling in the breeze, she shed her shoes and wriggled out of her pantelets. Her skirts were already tied looser than usual to accommodate the nearly imperceptible swell of her abdomen, but she didn't have the chance to untie them because Charles pulled her down onto the bed, eliciting a giggle when she landed on his lap. When she started to move and lay back, he held her there.
"No, like this," he said, scooting until his back was against the wall. "I want to watch you."
"What?" she asked, slightly scandalized, but he was kissing her again, a hand moving her skirts out of the way, another sinking into the hair at the nape of her neck.
They hadn't moved this quickly since the first year of their marriage, before Mary was born, after they were comfortable with each other. Since then, most of the time their lovemaking was carefully contained and, for the most part, discreet as to not wake the girls. Something about being out here, with no one around for miles, made them both bold. She hadn't thought she could be ready this quickly, but the sharp intake of breath when Charles thrust up into her, a hand braced on her waist, was more pleasure than pain.
"Are you all right?" he asked quickly.
She nodded, letting her weight settle over his lap, and heard him moan. They moved almost frantically together, with Charles guiding her movements in the largely unfamiliar position. The angle was deeper, and the idea of them doing this during the day, when minutes before she'd been sweeping the floor, made Caroline close her eyes. Her breathing became quick and labored, and she attempted to bury her face in his neck as his thrusts turned desperate and her cries became difficult to contain.
Suddenly, the movements ceased, and Caroline opened her eyes to see him unbuttoning her blouse, cursing over the tiny buttons. She took a moment to rest, sighing in relief when the cooler air made contact with her sweaty chest. The chemise beneath her blouse was another impediment, but Caroline saw stars when his mouth found her sensitive nipple through the thin fabric; the surprising bliss overshadowed any soreness. She clasped his head there, and moaned when his hand found her other breast, shocked to find herself thrusting down onto him. It was almost too much to bear.
"Please," she managed, her voice raspy. "Charles."
He growled against her, thrusting again, it felt so deep she thought perhaps he touched her womb. Hands beneath her skirts again, gripping her thighs, a thumb finding her center. She lunged forward, bracing a hand against the wall, and cried out as pleasure ripped through her. Riding it like a wave, she felt the pull and release as he finished, and was dimly aware of one of the girls' voices in the distance.
"Charles, the girls-"
Somehow he managed to extricate himself out from beneath her and tuck in while she just slumped over the edge of the bed, sweaty and sleepy, still breathing heavily. Charles went out the door to greet whichever child needed attention, and she hoped he could stave them from coming inside just yet. Her blouse was still gaping open, her chemise bore damp marks other than sweat where he'd gummed at her breasts, and there were two delicate blue buttons with frayed blue thread on her skirt where he'd pulled too desperately. She buttoned up what she could with hands that felt uncoordinated and sluggish, and looked up when he returned inside.
He grinned when he saw her, only looking mildly disheveled himself. A blush crept up from her chest at the thought of what they'd just done.
"Don't look so pleased with yourself," she said roguely, "You're not the one who has to prepare dinner."
He laughed, sitting beside her as she finished buttoning up. A quick adjustment of her kerchief, and she only looked flushed and sweaty, normal for a spring day.
"Do I look all right?"
"You look beautiful," he said.
She rolled her eyes a bit, then, "What did Laura want?"
"To show me all the fish she'd caught. She wants us to eat them for supper."
"Well, she's out of luck. I'm not serving guppies. Not tonight, anyway." She put a hand to her mouth. "Oh, isn't Mr. Edwards due back today?"
Charles nodded. "I wouldn't be surprised if he took some time at his own homestead before driving over."
"What if he had arrived just now?" she asked, eyes wide.
He shrugged. "I would have stuck my head out and told him I needed a moment alone with my wife."
She swatted him. "Charles Ingalls, you wouldn't!"
"Ha! No," he said, "but you have to admit it was fun."
Finding her balance at last, Caroline was able to stand. "Why don't you show me the work you've done for the ponies."
"I can do that."
Edwards arrived with the birdsong the next morning.
"I'll bet my ring he's hoping for breakfast," Caroline said as he approached with his wagon.
"Now, Caroline, be charitable," Charles teased. It was easy for him to say, he wasn't the one meticulously portioning out ingredients to stretch each meal.
"Hello, Ingalls!" Edwards called, pulling on Pepper's reins and bringing him to a stop near their own wagon. "Seems to me I owe you some lumber."
"Looks like you were able to get it," Charles said. Indeed, when Caroline looked up from preparing a batch of grits, the wagon was piled high.
"Oh, I came by a little extra since I brought some fresh lumber. Was able to make a little trade for a day's work. Even had a penny left over to get some candy for the chickadees."
Mary and Laura, who had rushed up from helping with breakfast at the first sight of their neighbor, bounced with delight. Caroline was less than thrilled. A penny could be used for something besides candy, and it hadn't been Edwards' to spend.
"Oh, thank you, Mr. Edwards!"
"Did you see any Indians on the way to Independence?" Laura asked as Jack greeted Mr. Edwards, sniffing his boots.
"Can't say that I did. I sure saw a lot o' them jackrabbits, though. Oh, and ma'am, I took the liberty of pickin' you up some chickens."
Caroline stood, the grits forgotten. "What?"
"If you'd like 'em, that is," Edwards was quick to add. "Met a feller in the saloon. Family was goin' east, couldn't bring the chickens along. I said I knew someone who might like some eggs."
"Live chickens?" Charles raised his eyebrows. "I'm surprised they'd want to get rid of them."
Edwards shrugged. "Beats me, but they're yours if you want 'em."
"Oh, what a treat! Thank you for thinking of us." Caroline exclaimed. Edwards nodded, turned around and pulled a sealed crate from the back of his wagon and handed it to Charles, climbing down himself.
"Not to say I might come by wantin' an egg now and then, ma'am," he half-joked.
"Please, help yourself," Caroline urged. "We wouldn't have them if not for you."
Edwards turned to Charles. "Gotta pick yourself up some chicken-wire when you go to town, Ingalls, 'fore the foxes and wolves get at 'em. For now they'll be fine in some crates, or in the house if it don't trouble you too much. Once that door's on tight there won't be anyone who can get at 'em."
"I will," Charles said, clapping the man's back. "Will you join us for breakfast?"
"Oh, I best be gettin' on. Got myself an awful lot of beef jerky in Independence."
"Nonsense," Caroline said, returning to the fire and hoping the grits weren't burning. "There's plenty of coffee, grits, and flapjacks to go around. Laura, help me get the plates ready."
"Yes, Ma," Laura chirped.
"I'll just take the chickens to the stable for now," Charles said, taking the crate from Edwards, who rubbed his hands together and came to sit by the fire.
Caroline crossed one more item off her list before running out to see Charles off. The horses were hitched, the girls already outside waiting to say goodbye. She wished Jack wouldn't bark at the chickens.
"Charles, I think we can live without sugar, too," she said, holding out the list. "And only get the extra set of diaper pins if we have enough left over."
He tucked it in his pocket. "I'm sure we'll have enough. Don't fret."
She sighed. "I wish I knew how much they charge for these things in town, then I could have budgeted better. If there's anything that's too expensive, we can do without. And whatever you do, pick the plainest fabric you can find. Don't let the shopkeeper talk you into anything with a lot of color. It's more expensive."
He chuckled. "I know."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
He said goodbye to the girls, and they waited patiently by the woodpile, watching him prepare to climb into the wagon that had brought them all the way here.
"Oh, the letter to the folks!" Caroline took it out from her pocket, a thick envelope she had been filling for two months. "Don't forget to post it."
"I'd be afraid to come home if I didn't," he assured her. It was nice to hear that word -home- and to feel that they had one, now, with a door that latched, and glass panes in the windows. "And don't you overdo," he warned. "There's plenty of wood cut there to last you until I get back from Independence."
"I won't."
"Girls, make sure you help your mother with the chores."
"Yes, Pa," Mary said.
Caroline smiled, though it didn't come as easily as she would have wished. "Have a good trip. Be careful."
He knew she was putting up a strong front, but he also knew she was tougher than she looked. Nevertheless, Charles embraced her, holding her close as he had done with each of the girls, his rough fingertips brushing the hair at her neck as they always did. She hadn't been sick for three mornings now, and felt stronger herself.
"I will," he promised, letting her go and climbing up to the front seat. "I'll see you all in about a week!"
"Bye, Pa!" the girls chorused. He waved, and they waved back. Laura started playing with Jack, and Mary announced that she would be returning to her crocheting inside.
Caroline watched him drive away, the wagon becoming small and toylike as it climbed the hill. It disappeared at the horizon, and she crossed her arms over herself. A week. All alone.
The first few days passed without a hitch. The weather was beautiful, the mood light, and the chores were done without complaint. They even went and played together in the creek, the girls in their underthings and Caroline's feet bare skimming the water while she sat on the bank. Jack was a faithful guard dog, and refused to come inside at night, which had been Charles' suggestion, preferring to sleep beside the front door or in the stables.
Caroline vaguely heard him barking, but thought nothing of it, for the sound was further off and she assumed he was playing with Laura as she made up the beds inside. The new door was open to let air in, and Caroline hummed while she worked. It wasn't until she looked up that she saw them, and gasped.
Two Indians. Both men, one with his hair long and sleek, the other wore his in braids. They were dressed in deerskins, with beading, and fringe. The sewing was impressive. Their appearance shocked Caroline into silence. All she could think was how grateful she was that the girls were outside. But what if there were more than two? More Indians, who'd run off with pretty little girls? That thought paralyzed her, so she was barely aware of the taller Indian coming forward, touching her hair with apparent curiosity. He said something to the other Indian, a word that sounded almost musical, and turned back to her. Caroline could breathe again when she saw Mary and Laura appear in the doorway, out of breath, frightened. The man continued examining her hair.
The man with the braids looked around, she thought toward the girls, until he stopped at their bed and brushed back the covers. After some more scrutinizing, he picked up one of their goose-down pillows, testing the weight and texture of it.
Laura made a small noise when he drew out a large knife, but quickly silenced herself. They watched as he sliced the pillow open so the feathers floated down to the dirt floor. He reached in and pulled a handful out, tossing the feathers in the air and laughing as they fell as gently as snow to the ground. Satisfied with his inspection of her hair, the man moved away from Caroline and joined his friend in tossing the feathers out. A tear ran down Mary's cheek, and her lip trembled. Without thinking, Caroline took Charles' box of tobacco off the mantle of her new fireplace, with her china shepherdess and carved C&C initials.
"Here!" she said, thrusting the box toward them.
The Indians turned from their game and approached her. One took the box from her shaking hand. Charles had once told her tobacco was sacred to them, and she hoped the Osage tribe viewed it the same way. One sniff when they opened the box was her answer; the tall Indian quickly held the box close.
They both kept looking at her in a way that made her stomach turn, looking up and down her like she was a piece of meat. She backed into the corner slowly, like a hunted animal with no way out. Whatever happened, she prayed the girls would close their eyes.
"I'm pregnant," she said, realizing when the words tripped awkwardly out of her mouth that it was useless, they didn't understand her language. The knowledge of her condition may have stopped a white man from attacking her, but it meant nothing to the Indians.
She took their only cutting board, with the morning's cornbread still on it, and held that up, too. Too late she realized their knife rested beside it. The Indian nearest her reached forward to pick up the bread, sniffed it, and decided that was worth taking, too. There was no question about the knife, he took it immediately. With a gesture to his companion, they both left. The ordeal was suddenly over. They didn't shut the door on their way out.
"Oh!" Caroline exclaimed, a hand on her chest as she finally could breathe. She leaned against the wall and welcomed the girls into her arms when they rushed toward her for comfort. "It's all right, girls. It's all right."
"I wish Pa was here," Laura said into her shoulder.
Mary sniffed. "Me, too."
"Don't worry," Caroline said, forcing her voice to be steady, "he'll be back before you know it. No more going outside today, though. You girls can help me sew."
The rest of the day was almost silent, and none of them could stomach much dinner. Now the Indians not only knew where their cabin was, they also knew the little house contained a woman and two small girls.
Sleep was out of the question for Caroline once the girls were in bed and dozing off. She sat on her bed facing the door and knit a hat for the baby, spending far too long trying to remember exactly how small a newborn's head was. She recalled being surprised by the size. Her babies' heads could fit in the palm of her hand, but next to her breasts, which had been twice their natural size, their heads seemed large.
A knock on the door startled her so intensely she threw the knitting against the wall. Charles couldn't possibly be home yet, he'd said he'd return by Friday at the earliest, and that was still two days away. The knock came again, and she looked at the girls, miraculously still asleep. She hadn't thought the Indians had much experience with doors. If they wanted to get inside, knocking seemed awfully polite.
"Mrs. Ingalls? You inside?"
"Mr. Edwards?" Her voice came out quiet and fearful.
"'Fraid so," he chuckled. "You all right in there?"
She grabbed her dressing gown and tied it tightly around her nightgown, wishing her hair was braided instead of loose when she unlatched the door and looked out. There he was, just as tall, dirty, and unkempt as ever, still chewing his tobacco. He tipped his hat all the same.
"We're all right."
He grunted in satisfaction, and looked somewhere off in the dark distance to avoid seeing her in her nightclothes. "Only, uh, I saw some Indians ridin' out today. Thought I saw some comin' from here this afternoon."
"We're all right," she repeated, knowing she sounded small and scared.
"Well, it'll be mighty dark riding back home," Edwards said, kicking the ground and spitting. "If it's all right by you, ma'am, I might bunk down in the stables."
"Of course," she said. "I'll get you a pillow and blanket."
"Don't trouble yourself, Mrs. Ingalls, some good straw is more'n enough. I might, uh, stick around tomorrow, maybe start buildin' you that chicken coop."
She was silent, and looked at him, knowing the sacrifice he was making. "What about your own home, Mr. Edwards?"
He shrugged. "Nothin' there but some jerky and jackrabbit pelts. And nothin' to do now it's all built." His eyes met hers quickly in the dark. "I sure would be obliged if I could stay here."
She nodded gratefully, and got him a quilt from her own bed just the same.
No one tried to hide their relief when Charles returned from Independence. No trinket, no surprise bag of sugar or new hair ribbons for the girls could compare to the gift of having him returned safely to them. Mr. Edwards, who had stayed three days, coming up with every excuse under the sun to stay near the house, left as quietly as he'd come, before Caroline had a chance to thank him properly.
Laura and Mary told him of their encounter with the Indians over supper, which had morphed in five days to an exciting adventure rather than a terrifying ten minutes during which Caroline had feared for their lives. Charles gasped in all the right places, and asked all the right questions, but Caroline saw him dart his eyes in her direction several times while she quietly ate her stew. It was a memory she didn't want to relive.
After some more treats were dispersed, the girls were sent to bed, and Charles washed up outside before coming to bed himself. He was sore from the journey, and groaned when he finally lay down, breathing for a few minutes before pulling her close against his chest. Her arms were bare in the night heat, having donned a summer nightgown, and her skin turned to gooseflesh when he stroked it.
"I'm glad you're home," Caroline whispered.
"So am I." He kissed the crown of her head. "I shouldn't have left you all alone."
"You had to," she said. "Besides, Mr. Edwards was here."
"But he shouldn't have to be. I should be the one protecting my family."
Caroline rolled her eyes in the dark. "We're all still in one piece. No one was hurt. I do think we should invite Mr. Edwards to Thanksgiving dinner, though. Or Christmas," she amended, "after I've had the baby."
"Oh, people aren't so strict about that sort of thing out here, Caroline. I must have seen three women in the family way when I was in Independence. Yes, I could tell," he said, feeling her eyebrows rise in the dark.
She ran a palm across his chest. "Anyway, you're here now, and that's what counts. You should get some sleep."
He nodded. They kissed, and she happily turned over, enjoying the feel of his arm draped over her body, his warmth surrounding her. One large hand found her middle and explored the small roundness that hadn't been there a week ago.
"What's this, Mrs. Ingalls?" he asked, his voice already gravelly and tinged with tiredness.
She just laughed softly and closed her eyes, easily finding sleep under the gentle circling of his familiar hand.
A/N: I'm playing with the timeline of the pilot a little bit now, and rereading the book at the same time, so hopefully everything makes sense.